No Idea
by nerdyrobotlove2
Summary: Miles receives a startling phone call concerning his secret girlfriend, Olivier. When he meets up with her, he is met with a surprising development in their relationship. Set after epilogue, brotherhood-verse.


**No Idea**

**By: nerdyrobotlove2**

When Miles heard that General Armstrong had been injured during a Drachmen invasion, he was surprised and a little afraid. Sure, she had been injured before, despite being a superb fighter (and a better lover, but that was hardly common knowledge). The fact that he had been called made him worry. Shouldn't they have called someone else? Maybe her brother or family would have been the more logical choice. They called him from a portable phone used on the battlefield.

"_Major Miles!...ral Armstrong is..."_

"_What?" He heard gunshots in the background and what sounded like Olivier yelling in pain._

"_We gotta get her to the fort!" The line went dead._

The cryptic phone call made him catch the train from Central to Briggs before he could even tell Scar what was wrong.

When he arrived at North City, Miles actually jumped off the train before it had come to a full stop. He just missed the shuttle that took soldiers to and from the fort. Knowing that it wouldn't be back for a while in this weather, he borrowed another military vehicle.

He arrived at the Fort's hospital.

"Major Miles?"

He reluctantly stopped.

_That_ _voice. It was the same one on the phone call._

He turned to see Falman. At least, he thought so. His worry about his girlfriend had his brain running in so many different directions, coupled with the cold that had sunk into his bones and slowed him down, might be messing with his memory of the names of petty officers.

"Where is General Armstrong?" he asked, trying not to sound too worried or presumptuous.

Falman nodded understandingly.

"Right this way. She just got out of surgery."

"Surgery?" The call he received came two days ago. How bad were her injuries that she was just getting out of surgery after two days?

"The procedure was pretty much text book, considering it was done by the automail surgeon."

"Ah. She's alright, then."

"She should be. With any surgery, there are risks involved, but everyone is doing fine."

Miles nodded, pretending he knew what the hell what's-his-face meant. Why should he care if _everyone_ is fine? Sure, he was glad that the soldiers were fine, but he only slept with the General.

Falman stopped at her door.

"She's right in there. Go to her."

He opened the door and entered the room.

"Freak," he muttered. Seriously, what was with the look on Falman's face?

A tired laugh came from the bed.

"He told you to be proud of me, or some nonsense, like that? I swear, all Mustang's men are like that."

He smiled slightly.

"No, he did not. He seemed very dramatic, though." He turned around. Olivier lie on her back, her head tilted. A damp spot on her pillow showed that she had been drooling. She was unbelievably cute and dopey-looking.

"He's a sap, Miles."

He sat on the edge of her bed, their fingers mere inches from each other. To his surprise, she chuckled and grasped his hands.

"Can it, Miles," she chided, sensing his someone-will-see-us expression, "I'm sure everyone knows now."

He blinked owlishly. What was she talking about?

It was then that he noticed the basket sitting on top of her bed.

"Oh, so, you noticed."

Curious, he peered into the basket and gasped. A tiny infant lay swaddled in a hospital blanket. Its skin had the same dark skin as he did, but the tiny blonde curl peeking out from its little beanie was definitely proof that it was an Armstong.

"Is this, is it…ours?"

"It is a she, and, yes, she's ours."

"But how? I mean, I had no idea you were pregnant," he spurted.

"Calm down. You're waking her up. And, honestly, I had no idea either." She told Miles how she hadn't believed she was pregnant, let alone in labor. Had she not seen them pull the child out of her stomach, she seriously would never have believed the baby was hers. She almost panicked then, as the baby had not been making any noise. Apparently, though, caesarean births didn't get a baby stimulated like natural birth. Luckily, the surgeon knew what to do and her daughter started bawling like a warrior.

"That's my girl," she concluded proudly.

"Yep. A real Armstrong," he murmured, tenderly petting his daughter's head.

"Oh, that reminds me. Someone had the nerve to call my idiot brother without asking me. He'll most likely be here in a few days. I'd like to married before then."

Miles' eyes widened.

"What?" she demanded, "a bastard will never be accepted as the Armstrong heir."

Sighing, she grabbed the hand that wasn't petting their baby.

"Look, I know we never planned on getting married."

He nodded. That's why they kept their relationship secret. Fraternization rules had been broken. Then there was still a lot of racism and prejudice towards Ishvalans. A lot of the other noble families would not accept such a marriage.

"But the whole fort knows I had an Ishvalan baby. Who else could be her father?"

"Well, I know what you've said about Scar," he teased.

"Ha ha," she deadpanned, pinching his hand, although not as hard as usual. Thank Ishvala for whatever medication she was on.

"If you'll have me," he whispered, "I would be honored to marry you."

She nodded, suddenly serious.

"Good. Officer Falman!" she shouted.

Said officer poked his head in.

"Yes sir?"

"Is that priest here yet?"

"He's on his way up, sir."

"Excellent." The general turned to her boyfriend.

"I know you would probably prefer an Ishvalan wedding, but that will have to wait. Unless you brought Scar with you?"

"No. A-anything is fine with me." _We're getting married now? You're not even recovered yet_.

But who was he to refuse her?

Obviously, the priest was not familiar with the ways of Briggs. He downright glared at the couple and their baby. She glared right back.

_He must be very religious_, they both thought.

But he did marry them. It was hardly a fancy ceremony. Miles hadn't even gotten a chance to change his dirty travelling clothes and Olivier was in a hospital gown in a hospital bed. It was all she could do to sit up.

"Wait! You're putting the wrong date," she snapped.

The priest's glare intensified.

"What date do you want? One nine months ago?"

"That sounds perfect."

He gave her a cold look.

"You want to lie on an official document?"

"Well, since you think I'm such a whore, wouldn't you expect me to lie?" she snapped.

"No."

"Miles, bring me my sword!"

Miles quickly obeyed.

"Are you serious?" At least he was looking scared.

"I'm afraid she is. And we were married ten months ago in Ishval, but according to tradition, we could not announce our marriage for a year," he lied, surprised that he could think of a lie so quickly.

The priest's face softened.

"Oh. Yes, of course!" He quickly wrote the date they requested and practically bolted from the room. Olivier smirked.

"Nice use of general Amestrian ignorance of Ishvalan tradition, husband."

"Thank you, wife. Although, I do intend to have a traditional Ishvalan wedding with you." He helped her lie back down and curled up beside her.

"Agreed. Just as long as you do it before our daughter can be a flower girl for it."

They looked at their baby, who was finally waking up.

Her eyes were red.


End file.
